108 BIRDS AND POETS 
‘Where now the sea-mew pipes, or dives 
In yonder greening gleam, and fly 
The happy birds, that change their sky 
To build and brood; that live their lives , 
“From land to land; and in my breast 
Spring wakens too; and my regret 
Becomes an April violet, 
And buds and blossoms like the rest.’’ 
In the same poem the poet asks: — 
“Can trouble live with April days ? ” 
Yet they are not all jubilant chords that this season 
awakens. Occasionally there is an undertone of 
vague longing and sadness, akin to that which one 
experiences in autumn. Hope for a moment as- 
sumes the attitude of memory and stands with re- 
verted look. The haze, that in spring as well as 
in fall sometimes descends and envelops all things, 
has in it in some way the sentiment of music, of 
melody, and awakens pensive thoughts. Elizabeth 
Akers, in her “April,” has recognized and fully 
expressed this feeling. I give the first and last 
stanzas: — 
“The strange, sweet days are here again, 
The happy-mournful days; 
The songs which trembled on our lips 
Are half complaint, half praise. 
“ Swing, robin, on the budded sprays, 
And sing your blithest tune; — 
Help us across these homesick days 
Into the joy of June!” 
This poet has also given a touch of spring in 
her “March,” which, however, should be written 
“ April” in the New England climate: — 
